


Sea Change

by seimaisin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age Rare Pair Exchange, F/F, F/M, Multi, OT3, Pirates, Post-Canon, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The only peace a person can find is out here at sea.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaFemmeDarla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFemmeDarla/gifts).



> Written for lafemmedarla in the Dragon Age Rare Pair Exchange.

Bethany meets them again in Ostwick. The ship is a welcome sight, as she’s been weaving fishing nets while hiding from the Templars. “I certainly hope,” she says to Isabela, as they watch the land fade away, “that there are fewer Templars at sea than on land.”

“Well, I haven’t met any out here yet,” Isabela says, laughing, “so you’re probably safe.”

She feels safe, for the first time in a very long time. Part of her misses the Circle, just a bit, but the Circles haven’t been any sort of safe for a while - not since the Orlesian Circle rebelled, truly starting the war they’d inadvertently begun in Kirkwall. Well, for Bethany, it was inadvertent. She doesn’t know if she would have had the courage to begin things herself, but if she’s honest, she’s glad it happened. She just wishes it didn’t come with an invisible death mark hovering over her.

She says as much to Fenris one night, after a couple mugs of the not-quite-terrible ale Isabela saves for her own quarters, and immediately regrets it. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m sure you have a different view of things.”

He just raises an eyebrow. “I was there, in Kirkwall. I saw all the abuses, caused by Templars and mages alike.” He takes a deep drink before speaking again. “I mostly wish they’d all just kill each other and leave the rest of us in peace.” 

“Oh, really? _All_ mages and Templars?”

Fenris chuckles. “Maybe not all. There are a few who are worth the trouble.” 

When he next offers to pour the drink, his fingers wrap around Bethany’s when she hands him her mug. It’s an unexpected jolt of warmth, one Bethany feels dance across her skin. She feels the blush in her cheeks, but Fenris just gives her a half smile and allows her to slowly pull her hand away. 

*

She ends up in Isabela’s bed within her first two weeks with the crew. “What about Fenris?” she asks, the first time, her lips swollen from Isabela’s attentions.

“He and I have an understanding. I told him I was having you tonight.” 

“Oh, really?” Bethany tries to look stern. “That sure of yourself, are you?”

“Always.” Isabela pulls on the laces holding Bethany’s blouse together, until her breasts come spilling out. The feel of the pirate’s calloused hands on her sensitive skin makes Bethany hum a low sound. “Maybe,” Isabela continues, lightly tweaking a nipple. “you’ll have him one of these days.”

Perhaps the statement is meant to shock, but it’s been a long time since Bethany was that girl. “I don’t know …” She trails off when Isabela leans down to take a breast into her mouth. “I … um … don’t think Fenris … oh, my,” she sighs, finally sitting down on Isabela’s bunk and allowing the woman to crawl on top of her. 

The feeling of Isabela weighing her down fills Bethany with a comforting heat, as if she’s come home - which is odd, of course, given that they’ve never done this before. Not that Bethany hadn’t had thoughts, back then. But that world was miles away from this ship, this sea, this cabin. “We’ve all changed, sweetheart,” Isabela murmurs against her skin. “Different people, different times.”

Bethany feels different, indeed, with Isabela’s practiced mouth wandering her skin. She allows herself to sink deeper into the pillows - which smell rather like Fenris, salt and musk with just the barest spark of lyrium. 

The scent only heightens her arousal. Which is something she doesn’t have the capacity to think about right now, so she closes her eyes and lets her senses - and Isabela - take her higher than the gulls flying above.

*

Isabela knows better than to pry into the past, so it’s Fenris that broaches the subject. “Your sister … how does she fare?” 

Bethany shrugs. “I haven’t seen her for almost a year. I hope she’s alright.” She - singular, though she silently includes Anders in that hope. 

Fenris just nods. He’s leaning on the ship’s railing, looking out at the endless blue. He’s not the person Bethany once knew, back in Kirkwall - this Fenris is more relaxed, less haunted. “The sea has been good to you,” she says, leaning next to him.

“I suppose.” He laughs. “I’m not sure I would solely credit the sea, though.”

She doesn’t need to ask what - or who - he means. “She’s a force of nature, that’s for sure.”

“That is one description, yes.” Fenris’s grin has a touch of wickedness, and for a moment, Bethany is ten years younger, a teenager casting brief glances at a strangely compelling elf. That elf would never have looked at her like this, though, his eyes absent any wariness. “But it’s not the only woman on this ship it could apply to.”

Bethany furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve not met any woman named Hawke who wasn’t a force of nature.”

“Me?” She laughs. “I’m just … me. No families raised, no cities saved, no ships captained. I haven’t done much in my life but run away, quite frankly.” 

“If you think that,” Fenris says, “I don’t think you’ve been paying enough attention to your own life.”

He looks as if he might do or say something else - for a brief moment, Bethany thinks he’s leaning closer, and her eyes drift half closed in anticipation of … something - but in the end, he simply nods and walks away. Bethany is left to contemplate the ocean by herself.

*

They run into Templars in Treviso. The Seekers are apparently offering rewards for captured apostates in Antiva - and all mages are apostates now, with no functional Chantry-run Circles left. 

When bandits attempt to steal their cargo, Isabela and Bethany make short work of all but one coward, who runs at the first sight of Bethany’s fire. Unfortunately, he apparently runs to the Templars, because just an hour later, there are men in all-too-familiar armor standing at the end of the gangplank. A brave (and devout, apparently) dock worker guards the chains that tie them to the dock; unless they want to cripple the ship, Isabela and crew are trapped. “Give us the mage,” the Templar captain shouts, “and you may leave in peace.”

Isabela’s only response to him is a very descriptive hand gesture. “Wait here,” she tells Bethany and Fenris, “and tell the crew we’ll be out of here in no time.” She puts a knife between her teeth and dives over the far side of the ship. 

Bethany and Fenris look down at the rippling water, then at each other. “Where is she going?” Bethany asks.

Fenris can only shrug. “I assume she knows what she’s doing.”

Bethany looks around at the crew, most of whom are simply going about their usual business. She half expects someone to be looking at her, wondering. It’s not like she’s hidden her magical abilities while on the ship. “I could always …” she begins half-heartedly.

“Absolutely not.” Fenris grabs her upper arm. “You’re not going anywhere near the Templars.”

She doesn’t want to, but … “The crew. Is it fair to put them in danger just because …”

“Do they look worried?”

“Well, no.”

“Trust me. Everyone here has seen worse staring at them than a bunch of hyped-up Templars.” Fenris relaxes his grip, but doesn’t let go. “You’re part of the crew now, and Isabela takes care of her own.” He gives her a lopsided grin. “I learned that the hard way.”

Bethany pulls away and sits down on the nearest crate. “What happened?”

“After we first left Kirkwall, I was determined to set out on my own. I was only taking the ship as far as Hercinia, I told myself. After that, I would … well, I don’t know what I would have done.” He sits on the crate next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. “Isabela let me leave when we docked in Hercinia. She had a job - a well paying job, picking up cargo to deliver to the Crows in Antiva City. She had a timeline, too - in order to deliver the goods in the time the Crows specified, she had to leave Hercinia before sundown on the second day.”

He pauses, as they hear a Templar shout. Bethany hears a thumping noise; when she leans around the crates, she sees a crew member walking back up the gangplank, sword in hand. She can hear the Templars swearing at him. Bethany sighs. “At least,” she says, “there’s no blood on his sword.”

Fenris smiles. “No, but I imagine someone has quite the headache right now.” He leans back on his hands, letting the sun warm his face. “I didn’t escape Hercinia so cleanly. I had blood on my sword by the second day, and a price on my head.”

“How?”

“A slaver in one of the taverns. Of course, he didn’t identify himself as a slaver, just as a ‘legitimate businessman from Minrathous.’” Fenris snorts. “I overheard his ‘legitimate business’ and couldn’t let it stand. One thing led to another, and …” He shrugs. “He impaled himself on my blade.”

Bethany’s lips twitch. “I hate when that happens.”

“It’s inconvenient, especially when it results in the local guard running you down.” He chuckles. “I do miss Aveline sometimes.”

“Me too. Not quite for the same reasons. Though,” she adds, “I don’t doubt she helped me steer clear of the Templars that first year.”

“She did a lot more for all of us than we ever dreamed, I’m sure. I certainly wished for her when I ended up in a cell in Hercina. I was slow, and clumsy - it’s hard to evade capture when you don’t know the local landscape. I didn’t think I stood a chance of getting free. I had no friends in the city, no money to speak of, and the local guard was obviously more friendly to slavers than to former slaves. But in the middle of the night, I heard a commotion, and suddenly my cell was unlocked. By daybreak, I was back on the ship, with Isabela ribbing me about being such an easy target. There was no cargo in sight.” 

Bethany smiles. “What about the shipment for the Crows?”

“Apparently she has friends in high places in that regard. She had to give back the fee she’d already claimed, but at least we were never run down by assassins.”

“Of course Isabela wouldn’t leave you to rot. That’s not who she is.”

“No, it isn’t.” 

Their hands both rest between them. Fenris slowly moves his hand to rest atop hers. A moment later, Bethany turns her hand over and threads her fingers through his. It’s a more natural gesture than she expects. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asks, surprising herself.

“Mind what?”

“That Isabela and I …” She trails off. Blunt descriptions are Isabela’s stock in trade, but Bethany isn’t that much of a pirate yet.

The smile that spreads across Fenris’s face warms her even more than the sun. “Not in the least.”

He looks as if he might say more, but at that moment, they hear shouting from the docks. They both stand up to look towards the gangplank. Isabela is striding back up, damp clothing still clinging to her skin, daggers in hand but not at the ready. She sees Bethany staring at her and grins. “All clear. We’ll be moving out within the hour.”

She never does tell Bethany how she cleared the Templars, except to say that it involved the local Crows and a favor owed. “We all get into trouble sometimes,” she tells Bethany. “You’re not a pirate if you don’t.”

At one point in her life, Bethany would have denied the designation. But, now, after the last decade, the name - and the company - comforts her.

*

She’s had free reign to come and go from the captain’s cabin for a long time now. It really was only a matter of time before she walked in on something she perhaps shouldn’t. Yet, she isn’t prepared to open the door and find Fenris and Isabela in such an intimate position. 

Isabela sits on the bed, nude but for her jewelry, legs spread wide while a kneeling Fenris worships her with his tongue. Fenris’s clothing is also a pile on the floor, and Bethany finds herself entranced by the patterns the lyrium made on his back, swirling down until they disappear underneath him. She, in fact, stares so long that she doesn’t realize she’s been spotted, not until Isabela’s chuckle. “Enjoying the view?”

Fenris stops to look over at Bethany, who feels herself turn at least a dozen shades of red. “Um. I’m sorry …”

“Don’t be,” Isabela says. “You’re always welcome here.” 

It takes Bethany a moment to process the implication. As she does, her eyes slide back to Fenris. He’s watching her with a small smile. “Come,” is all he says, before returning to his work.

Another day, in a life before this ship, she would have sputtered and refused. But pirates don’t hesitate. Pirates take what they want; if it’s offered freely, who is she to deny herself? So she removed her boots, climbed up onto the bed and pressed her mouth to Isabela’s. 

It felt decadent, to be able to concentrate solely on kissing Isabela through her orgasm, to feel her quake underneath her hands from someone else’s attentions. And then, while her lips were still engaged, to feel the mattress dip behind her and another body press against her back. She felt her shirt lift, and strong, nimble hands splay against her belly. She pulls back from Isabela and lets Fenris lift her blouse over her head. When the garment has been tossed aside, Fenris gently guides Bethany’s head back until she’s at the right angle for him to kiss her. He tastes like Isabela - a flavor she knows - and when her bottom lip rubs against the lyrium veins on his chin, she feels a tingle spread across her skin. 

Isabela kneels in front of her; her hand slips down the front of Bethany’s breeches, and Bethany feels trapped, in the best way possible. She lets her head rest on Fenris’s shoulder. “Comfortable?” he asks, his voice little more than a rumble she feels vibrate against her. 

“Perfect,” she sighs.

“I knew I’d get you both where I wanted you eventually,” Isabela says, pressing a teasing kiss to each of their lips.

“We’re here at your pleasure, Captain,” Fenris says.

“No,” Isabela corrects, “you’re here at your own.”

Bethany can’t find it in her to argue with either of them, especially not later, when she’s simply a sated pile of limbs tangled with theirs in the too-narrow bunk. Pleasure, she thinks, is a gift she denied herself for too many years. It’s time she starts making up for it.

At this rate, of course, she might fill her lifetime quota of pleasure within weeks. She must express something of the sentiment aloud, because Isabela laughs. “No such thing as a quota. Luckily, pleasure isn’t a limited resource.”

Fenris simply twines his fingers with Bethany’s in response. It’s enough. 

They’re both enough.

*

The ship flies past Kirkwall. Bethany can see the Gallows in the distance, looming high above the city. There’s no smoke this time, though, no sign of war or ruin. “It seems almost peaceful,” she says aloud.

“That city will never be peaceful,” Fenris responds, standing behind her. “Not really.”

Isabela leans on the rail next to Bethany. “The only peace a person can find is out here at sea, I’ve found.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Fenris responds.

Bethany doesn’t have to answer. She just turns her face to the trailing breeze and lets the city fade into the distance, and into memory.


End file.
